.dropcap {float:left; color:#4791d2; font-size:75px; line-height:60px; padding-top:4px; padding-right:8px; padding-left:3px; font-family:Georgia}

Google+ Followers


Wednesday, May 13, 2015

More Fluoride Research │ Deep Deception Behind Acetaminophen

I quite enjoyed the two-hour season finale last evening of Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. ─ even my younger brother Mark remained up for the finish.  It was scheduled to run from 9:00 p.m. - 11:00 p.m., and he usually heads for bed no later than 10:30 p.m.

I am rather smitten by Agent May, played by Ming-Na Wen ─ she looks absolutely sensational in her black skin-tight battle garb on the show.  However, not many people realize that his fit 'babe' is 51 years old!

I'm not exactly sure just what time Mark's clock-radio is set for, but it was on at 4:21 a.m. when I got up overnight to use the bathroom and drink some water.  He may have still been lying in bed, trying to squeeze out some further rest; but he keeps the radio tuned to talk-radio CKNW, so it wasn't as if he had some soothing music to relax to.

I think it may have been just after midnight when I first made it to bed.  And I called the night quits around 7:20 a.m. this morning and rose to start my day.

It felt good lying there, however.  I clearly could have benefited from further sleep, if only it was easily achieved.

I set about finishing up the post edit I had begun yesterday at my website My Retirement Dream. When I checked out the original post yesterday morning ─ the post had first published on December 15, 2011 ─ I found that it only contained a YouTube video.

The post was titled How Many Km From Taiping To Penang?  The video pertained to the region, but had nothing at all to do with the distance between those two Malaysian locations.

I wasn't interested in filling the post with nothing but distance-related data, so I ended up gathering together a variety of blogging posts that included things like cycling and running events involving that region.

I was quite impressed by how many folks in that part of the World blog ─ and do so in English, too.

I was also impressed by how many folks there seem involved in cycling and running.

My youngest step-son Pote probably had to hustle to whatever Grade XII classes he had today ─ I thought it was to be another of those in which he sleeps away the day, but I heard him at the front door around 11:45 a.m., opening it up to leave.

I wasn't even aware that he was up.  He must not have eaten any breakfast, nor washed up.

The fool has to quit sitting up into the a.m.

His mother phoned me this afternoon around 2:15 p.m., asking me to check her account balance online.  She was interested in whether a life insurance payment of $299.52 had been debited.

I saw that it had on the 11th, but the money was immediately recalled because she only had $264.18 in her account.

And now she's been tagged with a $45 NSF charge.

Why the Hell don't those pricks at Coast Capital Savings take the shortfall from the account she and I have in joint ownership?  There were over $1,300 there at the time.

If the account is in her name, too, then isn't it deemed to be equally her funds?  These damned $45 NSF charges are just a cash-grab.

I feel so sorry for her ─ and for us!

It's been another day entirely at home for me.  I won't even be sitting out in the backyard ─ the skies have been 100% overcast, and the 'radio personalities' keep claiming that rain is coming.  


Although I am extremely glad to have lived throughout my 65 years in an area of Canada that does not add fluoride to its drinking water, I am bordering on incredulous that there are still jurisdictions in this modern era that continue to poison their citizens by dumping that toxin into the water.

Dr. William Campbell Douglass II came out with a report on the situation just a couple of days ago:

Feds new fluoride limits are a joke -- but no one's laughing
Next time you go to the zoo, be sure to visit the sloth exhibit. Make it your first stop and your last stop. Odds are, the sloth will be in exactly the same place, doing exactly the same thing: Nothing.

And if you're suddenly reminded of the feds no one would blame you, because I can't think of a more accurate representation of our government in "action."

More than FOUR YEARS AGO the feds admitted we've been victimized by dangerously high levels of fluoride in the water. More than FOUR YEARS AGO they said they were going to set new guidelines. More than FOUR YEARS ago the Department of Health and Human Services said it would slash allowable levels almost in half.

And they're just getting around to actually doing it right now.

The feds admit the 1.2 parts per million level they've been dumping in the water for years will cause "adverse effects" and are now cutting that recommendation to 0.7 ppm.

Naturally, they don't want to talk much about those "adverse effects." Press 'em on it, and they'll claim the higher level is safe, but causes discoloration on the teeth.

But that discoloration isn't purely cosmetic. It's a sure sign of excess fluoride in the body -- and while it's the only damage you can see, it's far from the only damage you'll suffer.

Just a few months ago, new research proved that fluoride in the water -- fluoride at levels well BELOW those in the new guidelines -- can damage the thyroid and double your risk of hypothyroidism, leading to weight gain, depression and low energy.

Is it any coincidence that all three of those problems are running rampant in fluoride-soaked America?

Fluoride can also accumulate in the brain, leading to low IQ in children and dementia in adults. (Two conditions also running rampant.) The same fluoride that allegedly protects teeth can also cause brittle bone, especially in seniors already prone to bone problems.

The feds cut levels of exposure, but they didn't eliminate it. That means your water is still tainted -- and you shouldn't take a sip without filtering it first.

There's just one system that can effectively remove fluoride, and that's reverse osmosis. Just be sure to have it installed where the water supply enters you home to ensure that every tap is protected.

Bringing order to your water,

William Campbell Douglass II, M.D.
The fluoride study he made reference to is probably this 'research report' titled Are fluoride levels in drinking water associated with hypothyroidism prevalence in England? A large observational study of GP practice data and fluoride levels in drinking water (doi: 10.1136/jech-2014-204971) ─ but only the abstract or summary is available there for free to the general public. 

Still, if you are interested, here are a couple of other reports about the study:
With all of the innumerable toxic and harmful products I have been ─ and continue to be ─ subjected to throughout my life via my environment and my food, it is at least a small relief to know that I have not been gulping down that specific toxin every time I swallowed some water.

Still, I used fluroide toothpastes for most of my life, and I know I have gulped down plenty of that material over the decades.  It's impossible not to swallow any.  That's why I gave up toothpastes.

Something else I eschew is any form of acetaminophen.  I did weaken, though, after I was home from knee surgery back in early November 2010 ─ my left leg's quadriceps ligament had torn entirely clear of the attachment to my knee cap.

This separation is termed an avulsion.

Without the surgery to reattach the tendon, I would have never again had a functioning knee; and throughout life, I would only have been able to walk with a board-stiff leg.

Anyway, the hours following the surgery proved more painful than the actual accident.  The surgical pain became unrelenting.

And so it was that ─ on my first night home, I think, after getting released from the hospital ─ I did resort to a dose of Tylenol.

I did so only the once.

My main pain ameliorant was beer, and sometimes some hard liquor as well.

However, that was limited to the evening ─ I wasn't drinking all the day long.

But returning to Tylenol, I want to offer this disturbing report by the Health Sciences Institute (HSI) that they came out with yesterday:  

Bottling up the truth
Last year, top secret documents about Tylenol almost got released.

They claimed to tell the tale of hushed-up experiments conducted by Tylenol maker McNeil Consumer Healthcare -- studies with military-sounding code names like "Project Protect" and "Project PAPA."

The research, according to court documents, was being driven by what was fast becoming the worst-kept secret in health care. Acetaminophen, the ingredient in Tylenol, can destroy your liver.

McNeil was able to keep memos and documents about its secret research out of the public eye -- but with another major court case looming, its luck may be running out. We may be just weeks from knowing when McNeil understood the risks of Tylenol, whether it could have made the product safe, and, most importantly, why it didn't.

Over the years we've been warning you about acetaminophen, a drug contained in hundreds of prescription and OTC meds like Tylenol. It's the leading cause of liver failure in the U.S. and it lands 78,000 people in the ER every year.

It's killed thousands -- and it's incredibly easy to take an overdose.

And the people who are most aware of that danger are the executives and scientists at McNeil. The company introduced Tylenol 60 years ago and it has a long, long history with the drug. It was even McNeil's former chairman, Robert McNeil, Jr., who coined the term "acetaminophen."

Now, when you spend 60 years making a product that has harmed so many, there will be lawsuits. Sure, some are probably filed by ambulance-chasing attorneys who are only out to make a buck. But many aren't.

And one of the cases seeking justice involved a young girl by the name of Kiyana Lemon.

Kiyana's mom had purchased Extra Strength Tylenol for her, and said she took it according to the directions. Soon after, Kiyana suffered something called "drug-induced liver injury."

Kiyana's liver was in such bad shape she had to undergo a liver transplant at the age of 14. Four years later, she died.

As you might guess, her mom was heartbroken, and she decided to sue McNeil.

During the course of the pre-trial investigations and discoveries, her attorney apparently unearthed some shocking information. Even though McNeil has practically convinced the public that Tylenol is as safe as mother's milk, it reportedly had been trying since the 1970s to find ways to make the product less toxic to your liver.

The attorney found that:
  • More 40 years ago McNeill started doing "confidential/proprietary research" about ways to "improve Tylenol." Two of these secret plans went by the undercover names of Project Protect and Project PAPA.
  • Expert witnesses (two doctors and one Ph.D.) were going to come forth and testify that that "chemical changes" to Tylenol were being explored by McNeil that would prevent it from harming the liver. One was adding something called methionine to its products, which can protect against the liver damage the drug can cause.
  • No changes to Tylenol were ever made, and the studies were kept hidden.
McNeil fought tooth and nail to keep that information suppressed, but the judge said it would be heard. The judge was also considering admitting testimony that Tylenol has a "narrow therapeutic-to-toxic window" -- meaning it's easy to cross a very thin line and take an overdose.

Apparently, that's when McNeil had heard enough. The company settled the lawsuit on the first day, and all the documents on Project Protect and Project PAPA went back into their file cabinets.

At least for now. Next month a jury will hear the case of Denice Hayes, an Alabama teacher who died -- like Kiyana Lemon -- after taking Extra Strength Tylenol. And don't be surprised if Project Protect and Project PAPA are back on the docket.

Either way, here's a "Project Protect" we can all get behind -- don't take any dose of Tylenol, or any other product containing acetaminophen, either prescription or OTC.
  • Superior Court of New Jersey, Memorandum of decision on motion, Lyles vs. McNeil-PPC Inc., et al.
I have no real idea how one would access the above-cited case-file, but I did locate this blurb on the Goldman Ismail Tomaselli Brennan & Baum LLP website:
Angela Lyles et al. v. McNeil-PPC, Inc. et al

Lead trial counsel on behalf of McNeil and Johnson and Johnson in a death case allegedly caused by Tylenol. The matter settled for a nominal sum on the first day of trial.
I have read so much damning information about acetaminophen in recent years that I wish it was possible to have it utterly banned.


I close now with this entry from my journal of 41 years ago when I was 24 years old, and living for the month in a cheap housekeeping room in New Westminster.
MONDAY, May 13, 1974

I went to S.A.N.E. in search of my cheque.  It wasn't there.  Neither was Art; he supposedly phoned in reporting an imminent doctor appointment.  Thus I volunteered my might, and Danny & I worked till his mother took him away for a 2:30 p.m. doctor appointment.

Esther & I lunched at the café across from Hollywood.  She told me Georgina phoned Verna Friday night and said she was very embarrassed about getting sick.  Esther also said Lesly was ─ or appeared to be ─ upset or jealous about Georgina's advances to me.  And Art was nearly bursting in vicarious frustration ─ and perhaps envy, since he so likes Georgina.

Esther drove me home.

I was inside just long enough to see David coming, so I locked my door and hid in the bathroom till the coast cleared.

Gilles, who dropped in at S.A.N.E. today, said he came around once to see me, but found my door locked too.

I went out, returning to find Bill on the street; it was important I phone Cathy at 10:30 p.m. or 11:00 p.m.  I went home with him and tried just after 7:30 p.m.; Wendy answered.  Cathy was bingoing.  

I walked home in the rain from Bill's and tried phoning after my bath; I used a Sixth Street booth to no avail c. 10:40 p.m.  I finally got her an hour later from Queen's Park.  

She was wondering if I would stay with Wendy at Whalley if she decided to accompany Mark to the Calgary wedding this week-end.  I said yes.

She offered to assist me buying and transporting my weights tomorrow after work if my cheque comes.
I just worked a day per week back then ─ Friday was my day ─ at a New Westminster charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends) that now calls itself Fraserside Community Services Society.

Art Smith also worked there part-time, but I believe that he had a schedule of two days per week.  I can't say that I have any memory of the "Danny" I co-swamped on S.A.N.E.'s pick-up truck that day with ─ Esther St. Jean was generally the truck driver.

She was filling me in on some of what she knew concerning the wild tryst another S.A.N.E. part-time employee ─ Georgina Junglas ─ and I experienced together the past Friday evening.  Quite often, a group would congregate after-hours in S.A.N.E. once the doors were locked, and we'd have a bit of a party.

Lord, Georgina was beautiful to me ─ and so 'hot,' I thought.

She would sometimes flirt a little with me, and I had been told by others that she definitely had an interest in me.

Well, on Friday evening, she had been sitting on my knee during the after-hours partying, and then stood up, took my hand, and led me off to the 'Blue Room' which pretty much served as S.A.N.E.'s storage area for donated furniture, clothing, and whatever else had been collected.

This magnificent creature pulled me down onto a couch and proceeded to French-kiss me furiously.

But I was fearful.  I was a prude about the others being so near and able to walk in on us at any moment.

I was also fearful of her ─ I had only ever been sexually intimate with one woman in my life to that point, back in 1969/1970.  Patricia Kerr and I had a few such liaisons before our relationship dissipated, and I left New Westminster to live with my father Hector in Edmonton for about six months.

It was fortunate that I had been resisting Georgina.  The next we knew, a few of the others did intrude, and declared that Georgina's 'boyfriend' was there to pick her up.

Then he appeared.

Georgina had gotten sick just before the others intruded ─ probably from the drinking, and the distress of my apparent rejection of her.  After all, she was not a forward woman ─ this aggressive action by her was something of a desperate manoeuvre, for she must have realized that I was unlikely to ever take the initiative.

It was probably in her mind that it was then or never ─ no better opportunity was likely to present itself.  

Anyway, according to Esther, Georgina must have phoned "Verna" late that Friday evening to apologize about getting sick ─ "Verna" was more-or-less the manager of the S.A.N.E. store, if that's what I may call it.

Lesly (or Lesley or Leslie) Roy was a 'little person' who also had part-time employment at S.A.N.E., and was one of those present that exciting Friday evening.  I had the impression myself that Leslie or Lesley was keen on me, so Esther's views on Leslie's reaction that night are likely apt.

I say in that journal entry that Esther and I were lunching in a café across from "Hollywood."

I'm certainly not surprised that I have no memory of the café, but I don't even remember the Hollywood Hospital.  I've mentioned it a few times in my journal over the previous year or so.

It was almost World-famous, for it was a unique hospital that had been in operation since at least the 1950s ─ from theglobeandmail.com (High hopes: Why science is seeking a pardon for psychedelics):
By the seventies, the only institution in North America still using LSD in therapy was Hollywood Hospital, a New Westminster, B.C., mansion where patients paid up to $1,000 for a 12-hour trip. They reportedly included crooner Andy Williams, futurist Frank (Dr. Tomorrow) Ogden, Ethel Kennedy and Greenpeace co-founder Ben Metcalfe.
I had even lived just a few blocks below it on Sixth Street for maybe a couple of years...yet neither I nor my younger brother Mark can remember the institution.

Memory is so fragile.

But back to my narrative ─ Esther dropped me off at my new "home."  Apparently the rooming house I was renting the room in was at 333 Pine Street.

My room could only be locked from the outside.  Once I was inside, the door remained unlocked ─ perhaps it locked with a padlock or something on the outside?  I don't remember.

At any rate, anyone who visited would immediately know if I was home or not, so I could not fake being absent ─ like I used to do many times when my old friend Philip David Prince came calling.  He could be nearly insufferable, and would visit far too long.  Also, whatever food I had on hand was vulnerable to his mooching ─ and I could afford little.

This day, I noticed him coming, so I locked my room from the outside and retreated to the rooming house's communal bathroom where I locked the door and awaited David's departure.  He would have accepted that he had missed me if he determined that my door was locked.

David lived in his own room elsewhere in New Westminster, so this was really scant inconvenience for him.

"Gilles" was a young French-Canadian who also worked part-time at S.A.N.E.  I liked the young guy, but he was a clinger outside of work ─ whenever I bumped into him, it was nearly impossible to get freed of him.  He seemed to have nothing better to do than accompany me wherever it was that I was bound, whenever we might encounter.

Up until the end of the previous month, my friend William Alan Gill and I had lived in an old rented house on Sixth Street; but we had to vacate.  I guess the house was slated for eventual demolition.

Bill had a room elsewhere in New Westminster that was considerably better than mine, for he was working full-time and could afford it.  He even had his own car.  Evidently he was sitting in it out on the street when I returned home from some brief venture I had made after eluding David.

Bill had a telephone message from "Cathy" ─ my younger brother Mark's girlfriend, Catherine Jeanette Gunther.  Mark and Jeanette rented a home together out in nearby Whalley.

I went back with Bill to his place to use his phone, but my young maternal cousin Wendy Halverson took the call and said that Jeanette was away playing bingo ─ undoubtedly, with my maternal Aunt Nell and whomever else from Nell's 'clan' who would have participated.

As may be surmised, I walked much back in New Westminster in those years.

When I finally did get in touch with Jeanette, I learned that she wanted me to stay at the house with young Wendy ─ who likely had babysitting duty of Jeanette's two beautiful young daughters.

Mark must have been planning on attending a wedding of one of our maternal cousins off in Calgary, and Jeanette of course planned to go, too.

Jeanette knew I was unhappy with my room ─ particularly after having lived in a house; but she likely also wanted a male presence in her home while she and Mark were away to Calgary.

As for the weights...it seems that my experience with Georgina on the recent Friday evening had fired me up about looking as buff as I possibly could.  I guess I wasn't giving up on her.
Post a Comment